


And Let it All Unfurl into Broken Remnants

by Muir_Wolf



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-04
Updated: 2009-06-04
Packaged: 2017-10-28 18:55:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/311120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muir_Wolf/pseuds/Muir_Wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Season 3 Finale. <i>He takes a drink, letting it swirl and slow-burn inside his mouth for a second before swallowing.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	And Let it All Unfurl into Broken Remnants

He sits, the guitar held loosely in his hands, and dares to say what he hasn't trusted himself to say all day, afraid a minute tremble or look or nuance would betray him to those who know him best.

"I won't miss them."

The words hang for a moment until he slides the guitar off of his lap and lays it gently on the floor, before he limps—staggers—over to the counter and pours himself a finger of scotch. He takes a drink, letting it swirl and slow-burn inside his mouth for a second before swallowing.

"I don't care," he says, with perfect poise and conviction and every resemblance to truth. He looks down at the glass that's trembling slightly in his hand and smiles bitterly.

"I don't need anyone," he whispers, and even he can't pretend that he can't see the truth he isn't willing to admit. His fingers tighten slightly on the glass, and he forces himself to relax them one by one, sets the glass carefully on the counter, other hand already searching inside his pocket for the bottle.

He pops open the bottle one-handed and contemplates the white pills inside.

"Nobody," he says, because he prides himself on answers and truth, "Nobody," he says, "Needs me."

He stands there, silent, for a long moment, before his long fingers pull out a single pill and slide it into his mouth, dry-swallowing hard truth.

He can feel the anger and pain tremble beneath his skin. He puts the bottle back in his pocket instead of throwing it against the wall. He finishes his scotch and sets the glass back down on the counter instead of smashing it on the floor.

He picks up his guitar instead of calling Wilson.

Some truths, he thinks, don't need to be shared.


End file.
